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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575604">The Only Other Option</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedemiel/pseuds/Aedemiel'>Aedemiel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adorable, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:48:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedemiel/pseuds/Aedemiel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley snarled, anger flaring up inside him and he grabbed the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat, shoving him up against the wall.<br/>“What have I told you about calling me nice?” he growled. “Why can’t you remember that <i>I am not nice!</i>”<br/>Aziraphale stared at him steadily, no trace of alarm or intimidation on his face. “Why can’t <i>you</i> stop shoving me up against walls?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Only Other Option</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  “So, you wanted to meet?” Aziraphale said as he delicately popped the last morsel of his almond croissant into his mouth. A light dusting of icing sugar coated his fingers so he slid them into his mouth one by one to remove it. Crowley, who had been watching the angel eat the whole time, blinked rapidly and looked away. Aziraphale frowned at him, puzzled, but decided it might not be politic to mention it. Crowley was awful jumpy these days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Yeah,” Crowley said casually, but he still wasn’t looking at the angel. “I haven’t seen you in a while and I wanted to check in with you that Heaven hadn’t started harassing you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Something was definitely going on. They’d had spent most of the day together the day before yesterday at the London Rare Book Fair, a yearly event that Aziraphale never missed. Crowley had insisted on coming along even though he would surely be bored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “My dear, is everything all right?” the angel asked, a little of his concern bleeding into his voice even though he tried to suppress it. If he was too solicitous, it would scare Crowley away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Of course,” the demon replied, leaning back further in his chair. “Why wouldn’t it be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I have to finish cataloging the last of the books I bought yesterday, Aziraphale said, watching Crowley closely. An expression of disappointment flickered across his face before settling into his usual look of boredom and cynicism. A mask, Aziraphale had learned over the years, to hide a beating heart no demon should have. “If you want, you could come and keep me company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Crowley looked at him assessingly in that way he sometimes did, as though he couldn’t quite believe the invitation was genuine, even though he had to know it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Nah,” he said after a moment that stretched just a little too long. “S’a bit boring, watching you work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  That stung, and clearly it was meant to. “Well then,” the angel said slightly indignantly. “I am sure you have much more interesting things to do.” He paused and winced at the hunch in Crowley’s shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Come by later if you fancy a cup of tea,” he said more gently. The demon shrugged. There was nothing else Aziraphale could do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>  Crowley watched the retreating back of Aziraphale and cursed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great job,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought angrily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Drive away the only friend you have.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d made a total arse of himself, again. Yesterday had been awful, he’d wandered the streets of London, crowded with shoppers and tourists and had never felt more alone. Aziraphale had been cataloging and inspecting his purchases from the book fair and although he had not asked Crowley to leave him alone, the demon couldn’t bear sitting there quietly and watching Aziraphale work without feeling all sorts of uncomfortable things that made him squirm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  So after dropping by for a quick cup of tea and realizing that the angel was clearly distracted, he’d left the bookshop determined to cheer himself up with a small temptation to perform. It didn’t take long to find an opportunity, a stockbroker in a coffee shop struggling with the dilemma of getting involved in some insider trading. But as soon as he’d found him, Crowley realized his heart wasn’t in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  What was the point in tempting people to stain their souls if it wasn’t his job anymore? Yeah, sometimes it was fun, particularly when the target was already close to the road to Hell anyway. If the person was already an asshole, it was just desserts. But he’d moved away from individual temptations years ago, it was too inefficient. And now he had no bosses to please, no quotas to fill, no reports to file.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Depressed, he walked away, leaving the man to wrestle with his conscience on his own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale had finished with the last of his new purchases and made himself a cup of tea to consider the problem of his troubled friend. Admittedly, it had been hard to adjust to this new reality where Heaven and Hell were, at least for now, holding them at arm’s length. Aziraphale was under no illusions that the peace was permanent but he was enjoying it while it lasted. He’d expected Crowley to find the transition even easier, Hell not being the sort of place to inspire much loyalty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Of course, Heaven had hardly turned out much better. Aziraphale wouldn’t deny it had been disillusioning. But he had to make the best of it and could still access his power so he could still perform little miracles as it suited him. He would have to be a bit more careful not to get into trouble since Heaven was hardly going to be inclined to give him a new body if he managed to get disincorporated again and Adam’s power had faded, no second chances there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  He needed to get Crowley to talk. When he was in the mood, the demon could talk for hours but recently he’d been withdrawn and unforthcoming even when drunk. He needed to find something Crowley would engage with, he just had no idea what that something would be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Maybe another approach was required. It didn’t have much subtlety to it but it did have the advantage of being unexpected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>  Crowley’s watch beeped, telling him that it was 4 o’clock, time for tea with Aziraphale. He suppressed the surge of excitement in his chest that was completely inappropriate. There was no reason to feel such a strong emotion about afternoon tea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  He headed for a bakery on the way to the bookshop to pick up some elegant petit-fours that Aziraphale was especially fond of and then made his way through the throng of commuters starting to head for the tube.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  When he reached the door of Aziraphale’s sanctuary he found himself unaccountably nervous. There was a sign on the door, not the usual one listing the most incomprehensible opening times the angel could devise, but a different one. It said ‘By Appointment Only’. Underneath that, in angelic script that only Crowley could read it said, ‘Crowley, this means you’. He gave a half-smile to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  He pushed open the door which had been spelled only to admit him and heard the cheery sound of the bell ringing as he entered. The store was quiet, dust motes swirled in the shaft of sunlight coming through the window by the cash register. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Aziraphale?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words echoed a bit. There was no reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Aziraphale, are you in there ignoring me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Of course I’m not ignoring you, dear boy,” the angel said from behind him. “I just popped out for some milk and left the door open for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Crowley turned around to see Aziraphale in the doorway, holding up a carton of milk and a packet of chocolate Hobnobs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I brought cake,” the demon blurted out. Aziraphale’s eyes widened with delight as Crowley held up the box. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Come through, let’s get the kettle on,” the angel said, bustling through the shop and beckoning Crowley through. The demon followed, a peaceful feeling descending as he moved slowly through the piles of books and cardboard boxes presumably full of more new inventory. He liked being here. It felt like ho--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Here we are,” Aziraphale said brightly. “Come on, I’ll be mother.” He laid a tray on the coffee table laden with a teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl and a plate of Crowley’s petit-fours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Straightening up, he smiled warmly at Crowley. “This really was very nice of you--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Crowley snarled, anger flaring up inside him and he grabbed the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat, shoving him up against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “What have I told you about calling me nice?” he growled. “Why can’t you remember that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am not nice!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale stared at him steadily, no trace of alarm or intimidation on his face. “Why can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>stop shoving me up against walls?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “What else am I supposed to do?” Crowley snapped. “It’s either this or punch you in the face and even you probably wouldn’t forgive me for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale’s hand came up and removed his sunglasses, tossing them aside. He held Crowley’s gaze and tilted his head back slightly, yielding no ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “They can’t be the only two options,” he said, calm but firm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Crowley blinked at him and then released him, propelling himself backward and falling onto the couch. Aziraphale tidied his clothes and then proceeded to pour the tea as though nothing had happened. He placed a cup in front of Crowley and then sat in the armchair, sipping his tea and picking out a petit-fours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  The angel was a master of holding his tongue and although they could sit comfortably together in silence, today was not one of those days. Crowley fidgeted as Aziraphale consumed one of the little cakes with obvious pleasure and tried to ignore the churning feeling in his stomach as he watched the movement of the angel’s throat as he swallowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I was going to tempt someone today,” Crowley muttered. “But I couldn’t do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  The angel put down his treat and looked at him, his face carefully blank. “Couldn’t?” he asked. “Or wouldn’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Shit. That was the real question, wasn’t it?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “It seemed boring,” he said, trying to cover himself. He felt exposed, vulnerable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Boring,” the angel repeated, nodding. “I can understand that. I’ve not given out a blessing since… well, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Right!” Crowley said, seizing on the lifeline Aziraphale had thrown him. “I mean, what’s the point? It’s not like I’m going to be reporting on it to Downstairs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Was this at the heart of Crowley’s disaffection? Aziraphale had certainly felt cast adrift and the promise of freedom was still tempered by the fear that one day Heaven would decide to reel him back in. Perhaps Crowley was feeling it more deeply than he had imagined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Have you thought about doing something else?” he asked. “I have the shop, it’s more than enough for me. I can live without my angelic duties, at least for now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I dunno,” Crowley said, shifting on the couch. “What would I do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “You must have done something in between computer hacking and redesigning urban infrastructure,” Aziraphale said with an affectionate smile. Crowley couldn’t bear to look at him and turned his face away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Not really,” he admitted. “Yelled at the plants. Slept. Made dastardly plans. The usual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “You’ve never had something outside of work, except your indoor garden which hardly takes up that much time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Spending time with you,” Crowley said sullenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale inhaled slowly, thinking hard. “Have you thought about traveling? You did say you wanted to go to Alpha Centauri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “To escape the Apocalypse,” Crowley said, furrowing his brow. “With you. Not much point going there now, on my own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Why Crowley,” the angel almost purred. “You’re so swee--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale broke off as Crowley leaped across the coffee table, grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him close. “Stop saying that!” he screamed and crushed the angel’s mouth to his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale froze for a second and then parted his lips, kissing the demon with every fiber of love in his being. There was nothing soft about this kiss, it was demanding and desperate. Aziraphale clawed at Crowley’s back and the demon shifted his grip from the angel’s coat to around his waist, pressing him tight against his taller, leaner frame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Eventually, Crowley pulled away, staring into Aziraphale’s eyes. His shades had disappeared somewhere in that mad grab of desire and lov-- something else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Well,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “That was…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “The only other option I could think of,” Crowley told him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Is this… something you want?” the angel asked diffidently. “Or just a means of shutting me up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I didn’t exactly plan it. I only meant to grab hold of you and yell in your face. Basically like before but without the wall.”  A slow smile spread across Crowley’s face. “The kissing part only occurred to me once I got hold of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Aziraphale still looked uncertain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. I’m going to have to tell him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I love you.” He frowned at the angel resentfully. “Don’t make me say it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Well, in that case…” Aziraphale slid his hand around Crowley’s neck and brought their faces close together. “I guess we do have something for you to do, my love.”</span>
</p>
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